The Scent of Love
by PaperPrince
Summary: Growing up an Omega is difficult but Sherlock has John to help him. (Omegaverse fic set in a world where Betas make up the majority of the population) Mpreg eventually (Part 1 of my scent series)
1. Chapter 1

Most children when young were read fairy tales by their Beta parents about brave heroic Alpha's slaying dragons, fighting evil monsters and rescuing pretty Omegas. They drift off to sleep dreaming of days when the air was thick with the sweet honeyed scent of fertile Omegas and the rough earthy scent of Alphas instead of the dull perfume-less air that suffices. To them these stories were fanciful tales of a bygone era, of a time when Alphas were feared and Omegas were plentiful. To them the stories were a remembrance of a time before the war, the long ago that was read about in history books.

Bedtime for Sherlock was not a time for the childish fanciful inaccuracies told by Betas. Instead it is a time reserved by mummy for telling the histories long forgotten or distorted by the masses.

She starts with the history of their ancient family regaling to him and his brothers tales of resourceful brilliant Omegas ancestors who had fought alongside their Alphas like equals and lived for adventure on the high seas, plundering treasure from merchant ships and discovering distant lands. She would go on to explain that they had reformed later on, denouncing their pirate ways and marrying into aristocracy, something which had upset Sherlock greatly.

Their line being one of the few to also produce an abundance of Alphas, her tales were also full of clever Alpha sons that were kind and gentlemanly and completely unlike the uncouth rough Alphas born into Beta families nowadays.

When he is not quite five Sherlock askes his mother why if they were so wonderful there are so few Omegas and Alphas left. Mummy looks at him sadly, kisses his forehead and tells him of the war which had resulted in the deaths of millions of innocent Omegas, killed simply because they were deemed immoral and wrong by a crazy Omega called Moriarty who had hated his own biology. Alphas had been similarly affected, captured and tortured to death alongside Omegas.

She explains in words he can understand that this war began with a single uprising led by Moriarty against the rich and powerful classes across Europe removing them of their power and wealth. Many were killed and as the anger and unrest grew Moriarty widened his attention urging his followers to hunt down those that did not support their cause.

From there things quickly escalated until ordinary poor Alphas and Omegas found themselves being rounded up and disposed of. Sherlock sits quietly as she recounts how vast quantities of young brave British soldiers had died alongside allied forces on blood soaked foreign soil to ensure the freedom of their countrymen and prevent their enemies achieving their goal of worldwide extermination.

Cuddling him close she tells him that his great grandfather had fled to Britain for a better life and how he had ended up marrying his great granddad Lord of Stanford. She also talks of how they had tried afterwards to rebuild the numbers of their kind but that most Alpha and Omega lines had been bled dry. Having been driven so close to near extinction they were now a minority, making up less than a quarter of the population, in a world run primarily by their Beta counterparts.

Stroking his hair in a in a comforting manner she does not need to tell him that in a way Moriarty's initial plan had been achieved, for Betas have become the dominant gender in society. He figures that much out for himself, joining up her words with the words of his class mates, the normals who taunt him at break time and ban him from their games while the teachers turn a blind eye.

Sherlock doesn't really understand what the fuss was about though, so he would be able to have babies when he was older. What was the big deal about that? Reproduction was a natural part of life. Hundreds of women, plants and animals gave birth every day.

At least he doesn't understand until he comes home with a ruined pirate's hat and a bloody knee wondering why the other children dislike him so. Disinfecting the knee Mycroft tells him that it's because Beta boys are raised to believe him to be something delicate and weak while the girls view him as something along the lines of a threat. One look at him and they can tell by the curl of his hair and the softness of his skin that he is different and not one of them. Mycroft gives him a plaster and tells him they are scared of things different from themselves and that they stupidly lash out because of this.

Knowing this doesn't prevent the abuse for they still call him abnormal and freakish, and treat him like something to be avoided or pitied or ignored.

It helps though.


	2. Chapter 2

Beta children are boring and regular but he's special, descended from French royalty and pirates and survivors. No matter what snide comments they make about his future, Sherlock knows he can do anything he wants to when he grows up. Sherlock knows this because his mummy is living evidence.

Being an Omega female she's prized among her kind yet pigeonholed by society at large who see her as nothing but a baby machine. Despite this she has never let anyone or anything stop her from doing what she wants. She's educated and travelled and fluent in nearly three languages. She can play piano and sing and was a trained midwife before starting a family of her own. To Sherlock mummy is everything he wants to be when he is older and his main role model in life.

It is due significantly to her influence that Sherlock embraces his differences rather than hiding his true self using the medication and therapy that is offered by those that believe Alphas and Omegas are unnatural. Those things while being technically illegal in Britain are not in reality hard to get hold of, with many horrid television soaps his babysitter Ellen watches avidly featuring plotlines involving characters secretly buying tapes and taking pills to turn them into Betas only to be found out later on.

Flyers for such things turn up in their mail now and again and are often delivered by those religious Betas who believe that they should repent and ask God's forgiveness (for what Sherlock doesn't really know). Every time they do his mother gets sad and shuts herself up in Sherrinford's old room, the one room in the house no one else is allowed to go in. Not even Joan their maid.

Sherlock knows his mother cries in there because the flyers remind her of Sherrinford even without using his deduction skills. It worries Sherlock slightly when she does this for he doesn't quite understand why she gets so upset. So Sherrinford had renounced his Alpha ways and run away from home determined to live life as an ordinary Beta, he'd did so ages ago when Sherlock was still just a baby. Mummy still had father, Mycroft and him. Not to mention their large loving extended family made up of others just like them. Were they not enough? And if so why did she get sentimental over someone he couldn't even really remember anymore? Surely she had grieved for him long enough?

Sometimes Sherlock thinks he has dreams about Sherrinford his older absent brother, a half remembered face smiling at him with sad eyes. Sometimes Sherlock dreams off running off and finding Sherry and bringing him home to mummy. He doesn't tell mummy of these dreams for fear of upsetting her further.


	3. Chapter 3

He confides this to Cousin John however during a sleepover in John's new room at his grandmother's house. Not because he actually plans on going and looking for his brother (that would be foolish as his brother has made it clear that he doesn't want to be found) but because John had said that best friends don't keep any secrets from each other. Sherlock wasn't quite sure when John, the only grandchild of one of his mother's closest friends had decided that he was Sherlock's best friend but Sherlock had liked the idea of being best friends with John far too much to disagree to those rules especially when John's company was what made events like Christmas and holidays so tolerable.

John starts attending Sherlock's school, because it is closer than the old one. Being only a few months older than Sherlock he gets assigned to Sherlock's classroom though Sherlock doesn't know this until John is standing nervously at the front introducing himself to the rest of the class. Everyone smiles nicely at him until he makes the mistake of mentioning his orientation unaware of their prejudice, having been taught at a private school before his parents deaths had forced him to move in with his granny.

Sherlock looks on as his class mates exchange uneasy looks between each other as they realise they have got yet another freak. John doesn't seem to notice this though and eagerly fills the empty seat beside Sherlock and shows him his shiny new pencil case.

Sherlock knows he shouldn't be happy when John chooses to sit next to him; there are no other empty seats so it's hardly a choice after all. However a part of him can't help but feel slightly ecstatic every time John quietly asks him a question or accidentally brushes against him. For he is certain that everything will change as soon as the other children get to know John and see how nice and kind and different he is to Sherlock. Sherlock just knows they will like him for sure and steal John away and make him theirs just like they did with Sherlock's favourite doll. John is sure to try and make everyone get along but Sherlock will undoubtedly mess things up and John will end up hating him just like the others.

Pushing down those bitter thoughts Sherlock revels in finally having someone to pass notes to while in class and tries to concentrate on enjoying the morning with his friend.

When break time finally comes around John stays behind with Sherlock instead of rushing off with the others and asks Sherlock to give him a tour of the school. Slightly surprised Sherlock complies showing John every interesting nook and cranny from the music room, to the library (Sherlock even tries to show John the roof but John gets a little upset so they sneak into the tuck shop instead and help themselves to sherbet).

It doesn't take long for the other kids to start teasing them, assuming that just because John is an Alpha and Sherlock an Omega and the two of them are friends they must be dating. Sherlock knows from having (spied on) overheard the older girls talking that dating is when two people who like each other hang out together and have fun. Secretly he can't help but think that a very good definition of what he and John are. However they haven't really spoken about becoming boyfriends or whatnot and Sherlock's not really sure how to bring it up naturally so he just ignores the taunts as per usual.

The first time someone out right asks them if the rumours are true Sherlock's stomach tightens afraid that John will get upset, deny it and leave him alone.

Instead much to his surprise John nods in agreement with the Beta, some snotty older kid called Moran and tells him that Sherlock is his and that the others had better leave Sherlock alone else they will have to deal with him. He snarls as he says this puffing out his chest and trying to make himself look taller, Sherlock personally doesn't think he looks particularly frightening in his mustard yellow jumper with one of the dwarfs from Snow White on it but even so Moran seems to get the message and Sherlock finds the bullying subside somewhat which is nice.

Of the games Sherlock and John play together, Sherlock's favourite is chase. It's rather like the game of kiss chase the Betas play only better for instead of kisses, Sherlock and John exchange bites. Nothing big or bloody just small nips to the arms and neck (mostly). Leah Harris says it's gross but they pay her no mind until she tells one of the teachers. The first few times they play it they get told off for fighting until their parents have a talk with the headmaster and explain that it's just one of those Alpha/Omega things and that they can't help practising at making the bond bite that is made when a grown couple is in love.

As much as Sherlock often finds himself wishing their small village had abundance of Omegas and Alphas, he can't help but feel slightly pleased that he is the only Omega for John to play this game with.


	4. Chapter 4

When puberty catches up with him and Sherlock starts properly presenting his gender, the change is fascinating. Considering the private nature of his kind and the stupidity of Beta researchers it is not completely surprising to find most biology books fail to detail the changes experienced by adolescent Omegas in a manner sufficiently explicit for Sherlock.

As a result Sherlock is forced to ask several questions in order to satisfy his natural curiosity. Scientific questions to do with the quantity of hormones produced when aroused and the accuracy of the three month heat cycle. Questions he thinks are terribly natural and yet result in him being made to attend a highly embarrassing three hour talk about intercourse with his mother and several other Omega relatives, which gradually disintegrates into a frank discussion of the best way to spend a three day heat over tea.

Having learned far more then he really wanted to know about the workings of various sex toys possessed by Uncle Erik (the fact he was a real relation made the discovery all the more disturbing) Sherlock retreats to his room feeling somewhat sick.

It takes him several days before he is able to look at any of them again without blushing furiously.

Over the next few months Sherlock makes detailed notes in tens of notebooks monitoring his body's slow process from that of a child to adult Omega. He marks every subtle change from the deepening of his voice to the sprouting of dark curly hairs that cover his pleasingly above average Omega penis. Apart from his downstairs area Sherlock's body remains largely hairless as is natural for Omegas.

Sherlock also finds what little baby fat he had gradually fade away leaving him lean and angular and Mycroft wonderfully achingly jealous. His mother alternates between constantly worrying about his slight frame, forcing him to eat several extra helpings at mealtimes to help his maturing body blossom (her words not his) and complaining over the rate at which he outgrows his clothes causing endless shopping trips for both of them.

His scent changes naturally from the bland milky coconut scent all children are born with regardless of gender becoming something increasingly sweet and florally that reminds him mostly of his mother's scent but with his own undertones of honey and something slightly indescribable .

Within his family his change of scent seems to make them even more protective of him, so much so that Sherlock finds himself enrolled in several after school self-defence classes. Much to his father's surprise (given his to tendency to spend PE lesson doing as little physical activity as possible) Sherlock takes to the classes immensely, revelling in being able to bring an adult twice his size to his knees.

Despite these new found abilities Mycroft starts stalking him under the misguided belief that Sherlock will be brutally attacked the moment he takes his eyes off of his brother, so much so that he even takes to listening in on all most all of Sherlock and John's conversations. It is therefore somewhat a relief when Mycroft returns to his snooty posh boarding school that only admitted him on a scholarship to fill some diversity quota.

As much as Sherlock finds his older brother's sudden protectiveness unnecessary and at times slightly overwhelming, he really doesn't need to be called up and yelled at by an intoxicated Mycroft at three in the morning several consecutive nights running, it is funny to have him slur down the line that he's far too young to let anyone knot him and to make sure John keeps his hands to himself or else face his wrath.

As Sherlock listens to his brother describe the many violent ways he could have his best friend tortured Sherlock cannot help but feel his threats directed at the wrong person entirely given the way practically every Beta who spent their childhood tormenting him looks at him now, when he forgets to dilute his scent before school.

It's strange how all of them seem suddenly interested in him like he's some kind of celebrity. The girls who now seem to regard him as one of their own, trying to give him fashion tips and persistently invite him to go shopping with them (something he would rather die than actually do as shopping trips with mummy are bad enough).

The boys on the other hand, spend most of their time looking at him and then pretending they haven't been fantasising about doing "sinful" things to him because of course according to the church intermarriage between Omegas/Betas and Alpha/Betas is "wrong". Not that Sherlock particularly fancies going out with any knotless Beta who thinks that just by speaking with authority he will submit willingly to their advances, most of which consist of asking him to give them hand-jobs behind the Gymnasium and continuously trying to feel him up.

Much to their disappointment the only thing Sherlock gives those lustful hormone ridden monsters is verbal abuse and several hard slaps. It is hardly a surprise then that he gets a bit of a reputation for being volatile, though even the most reluctant of his Beta teachers have to admit Sebastian Wilkes deserved the smack he got for grabbing Sherlock's arse while in the middle of Chemistry (which just so happened to be the only lesson he and John did not share).

It happened like this; Sebastian, being in that small two per cent of the population that was misidentified at birth had due in part to the close proximity in the hot science room been overcome by his newly discovered Alpha genetics. Without the self-restraint and breathing mechanisms normally taught to young Alphas he had found the sight of Sherlock's shapely rear far too tempting to resist despite knowing full well that John Watson's fists were like slab stones.

Startled by the sudden aggressive assault Sherlock had automatically lashed out at him, hitting him harshly across the face with such a force that Seb had staggered back clutching his stinging cheek in surprise, as Sherlock walked out of the room ignoring his things and abandoning his experiment. Before he realises what he's done Sherlock finds himself on the drama club's stage mid-practice curled up safe in John's warm arms, far too content to notice or care about the stares of everyone.


	5. Chapter 5

Amongst all of the confusing awkwardness being a teenager brings, John is his beacon of light, his constant companion, best friend (and more often than Sherlock would really like protector).

So when Sherlock begins to wake from pleasurable dreams involving John to find his sheets soaked with lubrication and his cock covered in nocturnal emission it's something of a shock. While slightly relived to learn that his body is in good working order the dreams are just a little bit worrying as Sherlock is fairly certain people don't usually have such erotic dreams about their friends (even if they are sort of terribly handsome).

A quick glance at the anatomy books mummy bought him, tells him that it his body simply reacting to prolonged exposure to John's pheromones. It does not mean he is in love with John at all. It should be a relief to learn that, for feelings change things and make them complicated.

But a part of him can't help but wonder if it really is something more, after all he and John share a strong connection. Sunday mornings wasted curled up under blankets watching cartoons, hours spent playing pirates or doctors in the back yard, along with summers spent racing their bikes down the hill and occasionally locking Mycroft in the pantry cupboard come floating into mind along with hundreds of other happy memories.

If Sherlock was ever to fall in love John would be the obvious choice.

He doubts however that John feels the same way. Sherlock would surely know if he did like him for John had never been good at keeping things secret from him. In fact the more Sherlock thinks about it the more he realises that John has never seemed the least bit interested in anyone in the entire time Sherlock has known him, preferring instead to spend his time running around with Sherlock and going on adventures.

Given the way he strategically turns red and changes the topic of conversation every time his grandma asks about great-grandkids Sherlock wonders if John is even capable of being interested romance at all (John thinks Sherlock doesn't notice his reaction to her questioning but of course he does, Sherlock notices everything including the odd little looks John gives him).

Calculating that it was hopeless regardless of the depth of his feelings for John, Sherlock decides to try and shut away those thoughts and emotions in order to remove the pain they caused. After a little more contemplation Sherlock decides that the simplest and most logical thing to do in regards to his irrational dreams would be to remove himself from John's presence and therefore his Alpha pheromones.

The idea of being without John though is not worth entertaining seriously so Sherlock dismisses it, preferring instead to cut down on the number of hours he spends sleeping.

Unfortunately that plan fails as well for despite only sleeping one or two hours at a time, once asleep Sherlock still dreams of John naked and hungry for him, his tanned tea coloured skin warm and inviting. Worse are the many dark star filled sleepless nights in which his hands find their way unbidden to his hard member.

He tries desperately not to think of John during these periods yet imagines him anyway, broad and powerful with beautiful muscles earned through plenty of sport. Imagines blindly clinging to John's short blond hair, one hand curling around a strong shoulder as John thrusts into him. When in reality it is merely his fingers filling his aching hole as he withers on his bed hot and needy, longing for John to sneak into his room and fill him with something far bigger (which is ridiculous of course as Sherlock sleeps in the attic conversion).

At school Sherlock tries his best to carry on as usual unable to bear letting his biology getting in the way of their friendship. Despite his indifferent façade John's hugs become a form of torture for even that simple gesture of friendship has Sherlock's pulse rate increasing and his underwear damp. Hours of boring lessons are spent with his mind swimming with whatever indulgent fantasy his over active mind can conjure up.

John wonderful yet utterly oblivious doesn't seem to notice Sherlock going slightly weak at the knees every time John gives him one of his dazzlingly gorgeous smiles which reveal endless shiny white teeth. John's teeth are long and incredibly bright, the sort of teeth Omegas would long to feel pressed up against their throat, marking their neck, claiming them forever with a single powerful bite.

More than once John bares those wondrous fangs to scare some letch off, creating an awful tightness in Sherlock's chest each time he does so. As he forcibly reminds himself not to smother John with thanks and that John is not his Alpha, but merely a concerned friend doing another friend a favour much in the same manner one would lend the other a jumper if it were cold outside.

* * *

Sorry this chapter is short, the next one should be better.


	6. Chapter 6

Given how much time Sherlock spends conducting experiments, brewing poisons, hiding the fact he is in love with John and so on… he is pleasantly surprised at just how well he manages to do in his exams. Apparently, he achieves the best scores his school and the country have ever seen, which is a little hilarious given that he did little to no actual studying for them.

Despite this his year tutor still suggest he settle down and raise children instead of going off to university like the rest of his classmates. It isn't such surprise to hear that from her given that most families can't afford to pay for Omegas to go to university, however Sherlock isn't about to give up the opportunities university offers. Especially when his father has been fore thinking enough to put money aside for his education years in advance in the hopes he will make something of himself.

Besides there is plenty of time for him to procreate and produce enough children for a small cricket team later, thinks the traitorous part of him that longs to be loved and adored in much the same manner he adored his own dear mummy. (His babies would be smart like him and share his love of books, science and adventure. He'd teach them useful things like how to break into places without getting caught. And he would look after them and make sure they felt loved and accepted rather than little freaks.)

As appealing as the thought of children was to him, a degree (the best kind of door opener) was his priority. With that aspiration in mind he fills in applications for every half decent university in the country with the hope of being accepted somewhere.

He has almost decided when an invitation from Strand University to study Chemistry arrives in the post. As amazing as the offer is given the status of the university, Sherlock finds himself hesitant to accept, for he is already half prepared to go to study at the same university as John who was planning on studying medicine.

Nevertheless he finds himself agreeing to spend a weekend having a look round the place just to appease mummy who'd been delighted at the idea of a free trip and insisted he not make hasty decisions without having seen the place.

He goes begrudgingly, without John who has work that weekend anyway at the local supermarket stacking shelves and such.

Despite his reservations Sherlock finds himself warming to the university's charms namely its science labs which are kitted out with thousands of pounds worth of specialist equipment. He even manages to have quite a few decent conversations with the professors (who aren't as dumb as he had feared they might be).

When they return late Sunday afternoon Sherlock barely even bothers to take his bag out of his parent's car (he flings it absentmindedly into the hallway) before running down the street to John's house.

Sherlock bounds eagerly through granny Watson's unlocked door and up the stairs excited to tell John about the trip.

"John, John, John!" He calls stumbling on the stairs slightly in his haste.

Pulling open the door to John's room Sherlock throws himself inside without even bothering to knock as usual. He finds John lying on his bed, which is odd given that it's nowhere near his bedtime yet.

John looks at Sherlock glumly and Sherlock forgets his train of thought, John's distress clear to see from the rumpled clothes, unwashed face, half bitten fingernails and tired eyes.

"Something wrong?" He asks crossing the room and sitting down besides John on the small bed slightly worried that he may have done something to upset John for he looks worse than he did that time he caught Sherlock trying to buy cigarettes with a fake Id. A tiny part of him wonders if John had missed him, before dismissing such a thought.

Even so the need to fix this depression and makes John smile again overwhelms him.

"Haven't you seen the news?" John asks sitting up.

"No I've been avoiding them since they printed my achievement in the papers, why?"

"They've changed the conscription laws."

"So?" Asks Sherlock slightly confused as to why this would be bad news. Activists had been petitioning the laws forcing unbounded Alphas into military service to be altered for years, so surely it was a good thing the government had changed the law at last.

"They've reduced the age Sherlock not abolished it." John explains the upset clear in his voice. His hand trembles only once as he reaches for the letter on the bedside table and gives it to Sherlock, but even so Sherlock sees the fear hidden in him, masked by anger. A part of Sherlock feels angry too at the sudden rule change. What else might they do? he wonders unfolding the letter.

Sherlock reads it quickly; his keen eyes ghosting over the paper informing John that he must either be bonded before his eighteenth birthday or else be prepared for pick up. It goes on to mention the penalties faced by deserters as if they didn't know of them already having heard countless times on the evening news of some poor unfortunate Alpha that had tried to avoid the mandatory military training.

Sherlock has known for a while that John will have to do his service and in theory his heart should be prepared but it isn't ready to face the prospect of losing John, having assumed they still had years left. Something catches in his throat, his chest contracting tightly. John is far too young for this he thinks crumpling the letter tightly in his hands.

Despite their rarity Alphas make up a large percentage of the armed forces due to their superior strength and naturally strong protective instincts. They are trained to kill and be killed in order to protect the ungrateful Beta masses and generally treated like expendable commodities often used for testing secret government projects.

"I suppose that leaves you in something of a pickle." Sherlock says at last trying not to let the worry seep into his words.

"Well yes given that I turn eighteen in three bloody weeks!" Replies John loudly, his anger momentarily getting the better of him.

"This can't be legal surely?"

"It's the government Sherlock they can do what they like." The words; they may as well be the bloody Beta National Party given the way they treat Alphas sit unsaid in the forefront of both their minds.

* * *

"Maybe father can help; he's a lawyer after all. Or Mycroft."

John frowns and bites his lip, a clear indication that he has already talked things through at length with Mycroft to no avail. Sherlock pretends not to notice though, for he is loathsome to admit that this is one of those areas in which his brother is vastly more knowledgeable, that is in regards to the laws and such governing their kind, but then being the current leader of the AlphaOmega rights movement it was his job.

John speaks just as a depressing silence threatens to wash over the two of them.

"I think Mycroft's got enough on his plate at the moment, trying to free those imprisoned political protestors up north. The ones involved in that pay dispute."

Sherlock nods, sighs and slinks back onto the bed steeling his fingers together in his signature thinking pose. Sherlock isn't ready to let John go just yet, nor is John sufficiently ready himself.

* * *

"Why not contact a match maker?" He says some minutes later having at last come to the conclusion that the only way of getting John out of service was changing his status from un-bonded to bonded.

John shoots him a look.

"It worked for Mycroft."

"Yeah and look how well it turned out for him."

"Anthea isn't that bad." He says feeling the irrational need to defend his irritating sister-in-law.

"Yeah well excuse me if I don't fancy bonding with some kid!"

"Oh come on she was sixteen at the time, hardly a child"

"It's still weird what with the five year age gap, and besides he had a year to find her and get to know her first. I'd be bonding with some stranger."

"You could always bond with someone you know."

"Like who? Name any Omegas I know of that are single." John asks his blue eyes cutting into Sherlock's dull grey ones.

Sherlock momentarily stills beside him on the bed partially stunned by John's words. The small gap between them on the bed becomes a vast chasm separating them. Sherlock knows he isn't a typical Omega preferring to dress in dark practical clothing than the flowery frilly concoctions plastered in his mother's magazines and that he is ridiculously taller than John so much so that John would probably need to stand on tiptoes if he ever decided to kiss Sherlock, but even so the idea that John may not really see him as an Omega cuts him deeply. Surely it was merely a slip of the tongue? An accidental omission? He hopes it to be so for John is the reason Sherlock has never even considered bonding with any other Alpha.

Getting over his initial upset John's question circles around his brain. An Omega that was both suitable for John to bond with and willing. Tricky. After a little contemplation he manages to come up with a short list of names with only one real contender.

"Me." He thinks, knowing deep down inside that to be John's is all he has ever wanted.

"You could always bond with me."

John looks at him in surprise and Sherlock realises he has uttered those words aloud.

"You wouldn't." John says his expression tense as if not quite able to believe what he has just heard. Something warm glimmers in his eyes though like hope.

"I would, if it kept you safe John."

"If there was no other choice, you mean."

"John please, I'm just trying to help."

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just we had everything planned and now it's all messed up and it's all my stupid genetics fault…"

"Don't say that. Don't ever blame yourself John; it's this godforsaken Government and their absurd system." Says Sherlock somewhat worried that John might pull a Sherrinford rather than bond with Sherlock.

John looks at him examining him in earnest and his expression softens into a small smile.

"Okay." He says at last gently taking Sherlock's hand.

"What?"

"We'll hold a lablee."


	7. Chapter 7

Okay well this chapter may seem a little confusing at first but things should become clearer as you read along.

* * *

Sherlock stares at the long silken robes that are customary for such an occasion before deciding they show far too much pale flesh to be decent. Instead he elects to put on something much more comfortable; a pair of tight dark jeans and his favourite black tee-shirt decorated with a skull motif. He finishes off his outfit with a pair of worn silver trainers and hurries out of his room to where his family is surely waiting downstairs for him in the sitting room.

He finds mummy in there waiting for him, a pot of tea resting on the coffee table. Mummy being well used to his eccentricities says nothing about the way he is dressed merely smiles in a teary crinkly fashion and holding her arms out silently asking him to come to her. From where she sits she pulls him down into a tight hug, forcing him to kneel awkwardly.

"Oh Shirley," she cries, her tears falling into his hair as she clutches him far to close cutting off the air supply to his lungs.

"I can hardly believe it, my little Shirley all grown up! And having his very own lablee, with darling John no less! I'm so happy I could burst!"

"You're not nervous are you? I'm sure it will all go fine. We've plenty of time after all, I could make you some toast or something if you want." She asks letting him go long enough to peer into his eyes and feel his forehead for reasons only understood by mothers. She seems pleased by whatever she sees and lets go of him fully taking his hand and squeezing it tightly instead.

Her voice takes a more serious tone, the one she reserves for important occasions.

"I'm proud of you for doing this. I know you've both rushed into this for John's sake but I'm sure the two of you are going to be very happy together."

Sherlock nods in agreement, unable to imagine a sweeter hell than a marriage built solely on friendship and comradely with the person he truly loves above all others. His heart clenches tightly as he silently reminds himself that to have John faithfully by his side forever is enough. For him Sherlock will willingly live without knowing the feel of hot sweaty flesh pressed up against him and the merry sound of tiny footsteps upon the stairs.

Such is his unspoken dedication to his John. Despite the wretchedness the abandonment of these long dreamt dreams bring, Sherlock's heart beats gladly to do his beloved such a favour content in the knowledge that by doing so he is surely saving the life of his dearest friend.

The faint hope that perhaps in time if he is lucky John may grow to love him hangs round his despairing heart like a blanket warming its chilly core and strengthening his resolve.

Sherlock blinks and realises mummy has been talking to him despite him being far too absorbed in his own thoughts to hear her. She smiles at him knowing full well he has not heard a word and places a cup of tea is placed in his hands. To mummy tea is the best cure for everything especially nerves. Sherlock doesn't feel nervous but he sips the tea anyway grateful to have something to occupy himself with besides the ticking of the clock on the mantle.

Halfway through some story about his mother's lablee (in which father got far too excited and nearly decapitated her uncle) farther enters the room carrying a package for Sherlock. Sherlock undoes the box which is normally kept in father's study. Father pats his head gently and lets him examine the contents in peace. Eventually Mycroft informs him it is time to leave. Mummy kisses him warmly on the cheek and sees them off.

John is waiting in the clearing as they approach. Sherlock smiles to upon seeing that John too has forgone the stuffy clothes usually worn at such an important occasion, dressed instead in jeans and a plain white shirt. Gorgeous thinks Sherlock blushing faintly around the ears.

Despite his obvious case of nerves John seems to brighten upon their arrival. Having been kept apart for a few days Sherlock is just as pleased as John to see him again. John opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by Mycroft who seems to think there are better things he could be doing then playing witness.

"There will be plenty of time for talking later but for now shall we press on?" He says gruffly, his pale skin burning slightly in the warm summer sunshine.

John nods then frowns spotting the sword in Sherlock's hands.

"Sherlock where is your defender?" He asks wearily glancing at Mycroft who seems to have put on a considerable amount of weight since becoming bonded. Mycroft shakes his head faintly and shuffles backwards out of the stone circle indicating that he is not going to fight John.

"I can defend myself." Sherlock replies defiantly, clutching the cold handle firmly. John looks at him his face a mixture of annoyance and worry even though it is perfectly within the rules of the challenge for Sherlock to fight for himself (even if it alters the progression of things slightly).

Despite his concern John says nothing, knowing full well that there is only so much damage that can be done with wooden blades. A real lablee weapon (the sort which had been banned) could do much worse than a few bruises and in the past had been responsible for many a death of a challenger that had tried to win possession of an Omega through combat.

The two of them enter the circle properly and raise their weapons. Mycroft recalls having watched the two of the fighting before as little boys playing at pirates. His eyes shine warmly as he stands beneath a large oak imagining what sort of future the two boy will share.

A hand loosely grips the handle of his umbrella ready to intervene in the lablee if necessary but suspecting there will be little need of him, for the fight is little more than a ceremonial ritual intent on getting the blood pumping and stimulating the necessary chemicals needed by the body to enter the bonding state.

They start slowly casting careful strikes that lack power to truly hurt the other. As they shift and twist and turn within the ring the energy builds between them improving their clumsy rhythm. It's not quite a dance nor a fight but rather something in between the two as they move to the gentle hum of the breeze, its peaceful whispers broken by the thump of their weapons clashing loudly.

John's sword moves to stab Sherlock who elegantly evades the blow sidestepping out of the way with moments to spare. John tries again and Sherlock raises his sword in turn to meet John's blow.

Everything is moving far too fast for Sherlock to fully comprehend what happens next, only that one moment his is armed and the next his hand is empty, his sword flying into some nearby bushes. His brain scrambles to determine his next move unable to concede defeat until he can see that the haze has come upon John.

Forgetting about Mycroft's umbrella Sherlock rushes forward startling John just enough to kick the sword from his hand evening the playing field. Unarmed the two of them begin to grapple.

Sherlock writhes in John's tight grasp as the haze begins to take affect altering the colour of his normally blue eyes turning them dark and stormy. Spellbound by John's hypnotic gaze Sherlock fails to notice Mycroft's departure as he melts into John's embrace.

A strange warmth bubbles up inside Sherlock as John leans in close scenting him all over. Their foreheads touch and Sherlock finds himself breathing in John's intoxicating musk. Sherlock drinks it in until he is drunk on John, lovely John who he loves so, so very much. Their noses bump like Eskimos and Sherlock keens softly. Sherlock's eyes flutter shut in anticipation of John's marking only to feel the press of soft warmth against his lips.

Confused Sherlock lets out a gasp of surprise. His eyes snap open as John mouth clashes passionately against his. John nips at his lips encouraging Sherlock to open his mouth further. Sherlock complies, eagerly allowing John's tongue to slip inside. The last remaining pieces of clarity slips from his grasp as his eyes mist over.

Before he can even register the loss of John's lips against his, John is biting down ravishing his long pale neck with his teeth. A rush of energy passes through them and time seems to fall apart around them as John sucks at his neck working bruises onto the skin.

The sky is streaked with an orange glow as their blood begins to cool and the bonding is completed. Sherlock stares into familiar blue eyes and realises they are once again themselves. John releases him and smiles softly.

He then ruins the moment with the words; Sherlock about that kiss…

Sherlock smiles dimly, his heart aching like his bruised lips. He holds up a hand to interject.

"It's fine John, don't worry about it. It makes no difference to us." He tells John calmly, knowing full well that it is not John's fault that the haze affected him so fiercely.

Together they head back up the dirt road in silence.

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Sorry if you thought this chapter was going to contain sex but I thought John and Sherlock were a bit too young to be going at it. The next chapter should be a bit more promising.


	8. Chapter 8

Nothing changes after the lablee with the exception of the bracelet worn on Sherlock's left wrist. The plastic child's one is removed, replaced by a simple gold bracelet given to him by John to signify to the world that Sherlock is no longer a free man. John wears an identical one on his right as is traditional.

Sherlock adopts the surname Watson. Despite what anyone else may say or think Sherlock takes it only because he likes the sound of it and because it is yet another thing that ties him to John and John to him. Not because he wants to distance himself from the name Holmes which is well known to most everybody due to Mycroft's political work.

Mummy takes him to the doctor's surgery to get him put on birth control. (Unable to explain to either his mother or the doctor precisely why such a thing is unnecessary Sherlock accepts the small bottle of pink pills along with a stronger prescription for heat suppressants without a fuss.)

Sherlock naturally moves into John's house which is both wonderful and awful at the same time. Wonderful because it means living in the place that had been his second home since he was seven and awful because it means sharing a room with John, something that requires all of Sherlock's self-restraint given John's apparent disinterest in him.

Having forgotten to talk about University in the rush of preparing the lablee, Sherlock uses their first night alone together to tell John of his intentions of going to Strand University in September. He begins to ask if John will come with him.

Or at least he attempts to but John seems to misunderstand what he is trying to say and gives him a look that seems to be both hurt and upset at the same time and tells Sherlock he can do what he likes without question, before storming off downstairs to cool down.

Baffled Sherlock lets John leave; his burning question remaining unasked in the unease of his stomach.

Sherlock spends most of the night awake contemplating John's actions, trying to deduce why John seemed so troubled by Sherlock's desire to study at a different university instead of attending their original choice. Sure the two universities were a considerable distance apart but what did the distance matter when Strand would clearly be so much better for Sherlock's education?

The next morning Sherlock wakes to find a warm cup of tea beside the bed and deduces from the taste it had been made by John and decides it probably means John had thought about things from Sherlock's point of view and now regretted overreacting the night before.

Accepting the peace offering Sherlock heads down to breakfast only to discover that John is ignoring him. Belatedly realising that John both respects Sherlock's choice and dislikes him for it, he steals a piece of John's toast and heads out to post his acceptance letter ignoring the guilt churning in his chest as he does so.

Nothing more is said on the matter of universities when Sherlock returns from his walk even so it drivers a silent wedge in between himself and John.

The rest of summer flies by in agony.

Days are spent intently studying granny's beehives in the back garden or languishing in the shade with a pile of library books while John diligently heads off to work, even on the weekends. Sherlock pretends not to care but hides his keys every morning in the hopes John might stay and entertain him.

Evenings meanwhile are spent either in a sulk torturing his violin and every hearing person's ears within a mile's distance until John gets home or loudly interrupting episodes of Betaville to point out plot holes to granny who simply pats him softly on the elbow and telling him to stop his yapping, because Nathanial is trying to decide whether or not to stay with his dying wife or leave with the pretty blonde Au pair.

Regardless of how bad Sherlock's insomnia is, Sherlock spends every night lying beside John in what is now their bed, each of them as far away from the other as possible on the narrow mattress. Sherlock sometimes dreams of reaching out and taking John's hand holding it in his own.

Or better yet of John initiating something, leaning over in the darkness and kissing Sherlock taking him and claiming him fully, pressing fiery kisses over his pale flesh undoing him completely.

Most nights though, Sherlock just wonders about the hand holding and if maybe John desires it as well.

In the end though, John's hand remains where it lies centimetres apart from Sherlock's until September when the two of them part ways.

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**Sorry for taking so long to update I've had internet problems.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Note to speed this story along a bit I've done a bit of a time jump. Three years to be precise. Sherlock is around 20/21 here and so is John.**

* * *

"Victor. Viiiiccctor, get over here and help me." Sherlock coughed, and sniffed while lying on the sofa as Victor slowly shuffled into view a hand clearly pinching his nose tightly.

"I need my phone, get it for me."

Victor sighed miserably before starting to search for the phone's latest hiding place half convinced that next time he might be brave enough to refuse such an annoying request from his flatmate. He was after all Sherlock's friend not unpaid dogsbody. This time he assures himself that it is only Sherlock's dismal sickly colouring and wretched face that persuades him to help.

After a few minutes of searching Victor finally locates the mobile phone underneath the coffee table. Picking it up and unlocking the screen he goes to throw it to Sherlock only to catch sight of his weakened state and think better of it.

"Do you want me to call the campus medical centre for you?" He asks trying to recall the number.

"No they're useless, call John for me."

"Please?" Sherlock begged pitifully and somewhat uncharacteristically suggesting that he really was terribly sick. Wrinkling his now uncovered nose, Victor turned to him and inquired.

"Who? Oh, your cousin the trainee doctor right."

The face Sherlock made at Victor's words would have been deadly had it not been for the vicious sneeze that erupted from him at that moment ruining a fantastically strong glare. Making do with what he had Sherlock aimed the sneeze at Victor, who not wanting to catch whatever Sherlock had caught tripped backwards on the leg of the coffee table.

"He's not my cousin, ahhhhh. That's just a mark of respect my kind use when addressing each other. We're not really related, you dolt." Explains Sherlock simply, not wanting to get into the whole my parents were friends with John's parents before they died but we're still close to his gran, and me and John are technically bonded but it's awkward and complicated.

Oh right, well, um, it's dialling, what should I say?" He asked not much used to speaking with Alphas.

Contorting himself into an even more dramatic pose on the sofa, Sherlock somehow managed to look worse than ever. The image was however, almost completely ruined by the rather un-dramatic delivery of his next order to Victor, which he said free from the moaning or high pitched whines his other words had been accompanied by.

"Tell him I'm dying."

"Hello? Is this John Watson?"

Victor barely managed to get the words out of his mouth before he found himself being rudely swatted at by Sherlock, who suddenly seemed to have more energy than he had claimed to have an hour ago, when he had been far too ill to move off the sofa so Victor could watch the football.

Avoiding Sherlock's futile attempts to grab the phone and breathing in the horrid smell permeating the room Victor listened for a response.

"Yes, who is this?"

Before Victor can reply and explain the current situation, Sherlock the impatient bastard that he is, licks him taking advantage of his germophobia in order to seize control of the mobile and thus talk to John himself. Annoyed Victor leaves him to it having all but fled to the nearby kitchen sink to wipe the saliva off of himself with a variety of bacteria killing substances.

"John. John, are you there? It's Sherlock. I'm dying John, all the symptoms point to it. You got to come over here. Right now!"

"Sherlock? What's going on?"

"I'm ill John, Ill! I'm leaking from practically every pour and I've a fever. And everything, everything aches but I don't know what to do, I can't think of disease that adequately matches these symptoms. But, um, hearing your voice helps a bit."

"Alright, calm down. Now how long ago did you start to feel bad?"

"A few hours ago, I thought it was just a cold and ignored it. Only now it's so much worse."

"Have you eaten anything lately?"

"Just some horrible vegetarian soup Sarah made, Why- Oh, of course, it may not be a, an illness- I mean, it could be foul play. Oh! Someone could have poisoned me… John that settles it you must come over here and protect me from the poisoners. Sarah, in particular." He whispers loudly.

"Sherlock how could you think that of me!?" A female voice interjects as Sarah enters the living room, curious over the sudden increase in noise and catches the end of Sherlock's sentence.

"I would never do something like that!" She adds.

"Don't listen to her John, she's always hated me ever since I accidently forgot some toes in the freezer and she nearly ate them. It wasn't my fault, besides she shouldn't have been trying to take what was rightfully mine."

"That's not what I meant Sherlock, I was thinking more along the lines of food poisoning." John explains trying to avoid further excitement in Sherlock.

"Hey my cooking's not that bad!" Sarah interjects, only to have a cushion thrown at her head.

"It's bad enough to kill me," Moans Sherlock clutching his stomach with his free hand.

Annoyed by the insult to her culinary skills yet hating confrontations Sarah decides to light up a cigarette, something she knows annoys the hell out of Sherlock (who cannot smoke himself without vomiting ever since John used his Alpha mind trick on him to get him to stop).

"Um, if everyone ate that food and Sherlock is the only one ill then it seems unlikely there was anything wrong with it." John says trying to ease the situation that is starting to escalate.

"Ha, told you so!" Sarah says somewhat relieved.

"Oww, please John, come over here and make it stop. The pain's getting worse and no one here will help me, they're being mean- hold on a moment. Victor, VICTOR stop that, put the air freshener down, I don't smell, no I'm not telling John that, it's not at all pertinent to my list of symptoms.

"It's probably just a bug that's doing the rounds." Grumbled Sarah in the background silently thankful her sense of smell had all but been ruined by years of chain-smoking.

"What do you know about diseases, Miss Environmental Management!? And don't interrupt private conversations. It's rude."

"What's it smell like?"

"Oh not you as well John! I'll have you know I had a bath just yesterday, I think."

"I'm sure you smell fine Sherlock. I was just curious that's all, it could be related to your illness somehow."

"Oh right well apparently it smells of stinky fish and eggs, not that I've noticed. And before you ask no I haven't been making stink bombs lately or working with anything dangerous in the labs."

"That's good, I think."

Sherlock shudders and cries out as another spasm tears through him.

"Where are you? You were supposed to be here with me but you aren't. Why aren't you? Who else will take care of me? This is neglect you know, I'm dying and you're not here."

"I'm on my way. Just hold on for a bit."

"You're coming here now? Really?"

"Of course I'm coming down. I'm at the station now."

"Why? It's not your usual weekend for visiting." He says having memorised the routine they've perfected after almost three years studying at conflicting ends of the country. John will visit once every two weeks bringing with him enough food to last Sherlock until his next weekend visit.

During these visits they will pretend everything is alright; John will tell Sherlock about his course and the things he does at that other place where he currently lives during term time. He will then enquire about the last time Sherlock washed/ate/communicated with anybody living (the skull Sherlock stole from the theatre department does not count apparently).

Busy remembering how John sits uncomfortably close and yet not nearly close enough during Bond marathons Sherlock almost misses John's next sentence.

"Because you're ill. I'm gonna look after you aren't I."

"But why? It's a two hour train journey down here after all."

"I want to."

"Why?"

"'Cause you're my best friend!"

"So?"

"I care about you."

"Don't. Don't tell me nice things just because I'm dying."

"Oh, for god's sake! You're not dying; you're far too disobedient for that."

"Don't be stupid, of course I am. I can tell."

"Which one of is the doctor here?"

"I'm sorry. Only it's hurts, and where are you? When are you coming? It's getting worse, John. You need to be here."

"I'm coming as fast as I can love."

"Did you just call me love? Why?"

"'Cause I love you, ya daft git! That's why!"

"What?-What did you just say?"

"I said I bloody love you, alright? I'm crazy about you. I've been in love with you since the day we met, when you fell out of that tree and squished me. Why else would I scare off every Alpha you meet, and let you dress me up as Robin to your Batman every Halloween?"

"…"

"John I think I'm beginning to hallucinate."

"I pour my heart out to you and that's all you have to say to me?"

"Um" Words seem inefficient in this moment. They sit heavy on Sherlock's tongue while his brain lies there drowning in the joy that spills from his heart. Were his joy water, springing fourth from a river he would surely flood the town thinks Sherlock dumbly.

"Don't you care at all?" John asks his anguish cutting his words painfully as he misunderstands Sherlock's silence letting it crush all but the last of his hope.

In that moment Sherlock hears the half-truths, unfinished sentences and missed opportunities. Sees how thick headed they have been and how close they have become to ruining something that could be truly brilliant, by keeping their feelings hidden deep inside themselves.

"Of- of course I do." Says Sherlock finding the courage to voice his feelings at last; well aware despite John's reassurances that this may be his final opportunity to confess.

"Surely you realize I adore you John." He says quietly into the phone wishing he had said those words sooner.

"Oh right, good." John replies, blushing vibrant red on the other end of the phone.

"What's happening? Is John coming down?" Victor asked returning to the living room at last with some tea.

"I dunno, but they've gone all mushy and stuff so I figure that it's probably quite serious." Sarah replies having been nosily eavesdropping.

"Everybody shut up for a moment and listen to me. Sherlock. Is. Not. Dying. Now bugger off and give us some privacy."

"Fine, we'll go." Sighs Sarah pulling herself up from an armchair and taking Victor by the elbow.

"They gone?"

"Yes"

"Alright, well I think I know what's wrong. I think you might be having a spontaneous heat. Hello? Sherlock are you still there? Don't hang up. Fuck!"

"That-that's impossible I'm on the meds." Stammers Sherlock as his brain tries to make sense of John's words and his symptoms. Just wrapping his head around John's confession had been confusing enough. Now he was meant to believe he was in heat as well?

"Look I'm only suggesting it cause it fits all the symptoms."

"Nonsense I've survived a heat before and it never felt as bad as this." Sherlock says thinking back to his first (and only) heat spent locked up alone in his room at home withering on the sheets and aching for John.

"Yes but that was before we'd bonded. Studies have shown Omegas separated from their Alphas find themselves in extreme pain when in heat, that's why army wives are kept on suppressants."

The more John talks the more Sherlock faintly recalls reading something in his text books about the tiny yet powerful stink glands that are part of an Omega defence system. Could that have been the strange smell Victor had been talking about? He wonders struggling to recall if the smell produced would affect his Beta flatmates as well as acting as a deterrent to nearby rival Alphas.

Sherlock swallows his throat going dry, could it be possible he really was in heat?

"Are you sure you've got the dosage right? Not missed a day? 'Cause sometimes that can be enough to mess your cycle up." John asks his voice full of concern for Sherlock.

"I'm not an idiot John I take a white pill and a pink pill every morning at eight o'clock just as I have done for the last several years." He replies as the doubts start filling up his head.

He shakes them lose, sure of himself. He'd been taking the pills everyday just as instructed. But then again…

"Could there be something wrong with the pills? A faulty batch, perhaps?" John asks voicing Sherlock's concerns aloud.

"I did just get a refill three weeks ago so I suppose it's possible. I'll get the pills tested at the lab." Says Sherlock already thinking of the necessary tests he will need to get Henry a fellow Omega on his chemistry course to carry out as soon as possible.

"Ahhh. John please say you're close. I need you."

"Sorry Sherlock, I'm still on the train. Hold on I'll be there soon. I'm coming."

* * *

**Okay so I hope you liked this chapter partly because my Beta reader is seriously annoyed with me for constantly revising this chapter and also because I have an important retake exam coming up on the 24****th**** so I can't promise anymore of this fic until after then.**

**Also reviews would be lovely. **


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay so some of this might not make sense currently but it will in later chapters so just read on until you get to the smut.**

* * *

Sherlock waits impatiently for John while cursing his bad luck. Of course, some idiot just had to choose today of all days to liberate some cows from a dairy farm onto the railway line delaying John's train, if not the whole railway network. While workers remove them from the railway tracks, Sherlock tries his best to investigate the cause for his sudden heat, but it's so bloody difficult when a fiery glow surges through his body distracting him.

Despite his best efforts, search after internet search fails to find anything particularly interesting. No recent mention of the producers of his particular brand of suppressants on the news or indeed any stories of Omegas suddenly going into spontaneous heats.

That said, he does discover a staggeringly high number of deaths for this month in the local obituaries and an interesting recent story about four patients at a nearby nursing home being rushed into hospital in the same day (two having suffered a stroke and another a heart attack, while the fourth's though unspecified was said to be deeply serious as well). Apparently the police suspected foul play on the part of the carers though nothing had been proved at present.

Irritated at having found a particularly compelling mystery and yet being unable to investigate properly Sherlock comforts himself by (temporarily) evicting both Sarah and Victor from the flat and eating everything palatable in the fridge (regardless of whether he owns it or not).

Henry comes over quickly despite the short notice and Sherlock almost hates him for his promptness because John is still miles away and Sherlock is semi hard and damp to the point where his underpants stick to him uncomfortably no matter how he shifts on the sofa.

Being a good friend Henry brings with him a rucksack overflowing with supplies appropriate for an Omega in heat; energy bars for fuel, lotion to help ease the chaffing that comes with fucking for days on end, lubricant (despite the myths not all Omegas are gushers), and massive industrial strength condoms for obvious reasons really, along with several other blush inducing things which Sherlock decides look at later once Henry has collected all the necessary samples for testing and left him in peace.

Henry's presence in the flat helps Sherlock considerably, for unlike a Beta his Omega scent helps to calm Sherlock's body rather than irritate it. Despite the soothing presence of another Omega easing his agony Sherlock continues longing for John's assistance, something that is apparently normal according to Henry who agrees whole heartedly with John's diagnosis.

Comforting words are murmured in Sherlock's ear as Henry sticks a needle in Sherlock's arm and collects a blood sample, keen to determine exactly what chemicals are currently in Sherlock's system. In a way it sort of reminds Sherlock of the words his mother had whispered to him as she held a damp flannel to his head the last time he had felt this burning, though she had in fact possessed a far superior bedside manner then Henry who fretted and shook as he inserted the syringe.

The two of them spend a lot of time securing the flat with Henry closing windows and locking away possessions partly for security and partly to reduce the damage that often came with difficult heats.

Sherlock meanwhile sets up clumsy traps intent on ensnaring any potential interloper that tries to come for him (not that it's statistically likely but by this point Sherlock biology is starting to make him a bit loopy).

Henry leaves just as the sun is beginning to fade. Sherlock notes with a sigh that John is over an hour late. Checking his phone again hoping for a new message from his love Sherlock undresses, discarding his damp pants and sweaty pyjamas in favour of a clean white sheet he fishes out of a drawer.

Naked apart from the sheet he has wrapped loosely around himself Sherlock returns to the now tidy living room to wait for John, feeling somewhat like a present waiting for Christmas in order to be opened and played with.

The boredom begins to get to the better of him though, and before he knows it he starts rubbing himself against the arm of the sofa. Closing his eyes he tries to pretend that he's rutting against John's athletic body instead of the furniture. His fantasy almost works except there's a key turning in the lock below him distracting him.

Recognising the distinctive scent beginning to waft up the stairs Sherlock stop mid rut and quickly composes himself. The front door creaks open and Sherlock strains trying to glimpse at the hall from where he rest on the sofa. His stomach flutters with a mixture of anticipation and desire.

He hears the sound of shoes being removed and finds himself somewhat disappointed that John hadn't broken the door down in haste to get to Sherlock and claim him.

Absorbed in his thoughts Sherlock almost misses the flash of short, blond and awesome as it falls barefoot through the doorway onto the faded lime coloured living room carpet.

Confused John glances over his shoulder and spots the thin translucent wire he had missed on the way up. A brief chuckle escapes his lips and Sherlock finds himself smiling as well.

"That wasn't meant for me was it?" He questions getting up carefully and brushing himself down.

"Injuring you would be illogical given my current state." Answers Sherlock letting his sheet slip down just a little in the hope of speed things along a little.

"Oh right." John replies getting the idea.

"You're okay with this; right?" John asks, closing the distance between the two of them, standing close enough to taste, staring up at Sherlock. His blue eyes full of love and want for his Omega. Sherlock looks at John's handsome face and notes the nervousness hidden in the way John's pink tongue licks at his dry lips and the hand, which remains millimetres from cupping his cheek.

Sherlock leans into the feather light touch.

"God, yes. I want you, John; I want you to take me and make love to me."

Reassured by his words, John smiles and reaches up, capturing Sherlock's lips in a tender kiss. Surprised by the affectionate gesture, Sherlock momentarily flounders, before relaxing into the kiss, as John's free hand delves into his curly tresses. Sherlock's arms find themselves winding around John's strong shoulders, as their kiss deepens into something more needy, and frantic.

Little breathy moans escape his sultry mouth as John caresses his pouty lips with a curious tongue that tastes faintly of cherries. Sherlock kisses him back hungrily, biting John's lips slightly in his eagerness.

Lost in the heated kiss, Sherlock barely notices, as John's hands travel lower down his body. One arm slips around Sherlock's waist and the other behind his lanky legs, picking him up in one fluid motion and taking him into the bedroom.

"John…" Moans Sherlock unhappily, as John briefly removes his lips from Sherlock's proximity in order to lay him down, somewhat gently, against the soft linen covered double bed.

As he does so, the sheet, draped around Sherlock's slender frame, accidentally slips down to reveal a gorgeous expanse of milky white chest and two pert nipples; just perfect for marking.

"God you smell fantastic." John moans, drinking in Sherlock's fragrance like a starving man. Climbing up onto the bed after Sherlock, John pulls aside the last bits of the sheet covering him, discarding modesty and presenting John with the erotic sight of Sherlock laid naked before him flushed and eloquently hard.

Far too desperate to bother undressing, John presses Sherlock back into the mattress and pins him down with his thighs. Aligning himself, John thrusts his denim clad hardness against Sherlock, causing him to buck and groan at the stimulation.

"Touch me," demands Sherlock, staring up at John with lusty, wanton eyes.

"Shush, just lie back and shut up." John commands, leaning over his pale body, one hand grabbing his coal black curls firmly, pulling his head up and silencing Sherlock with a filthy, hot kiss. His tongue practically worships Sherlock's mouth.

The dampness of Sherlock's pre-cum begins to seep through the rough fabric of John's jeans, as they grind against each other. The bed creaks noisily, as John rocks them together; Sherlock's hips rising up trying to increase the friction between them, even as John humps desperately against him.

"Fuck" John hollers, suffocating in the thick layers of his clothes, as Sherlock presses himself closer. There's an intense heat radiating from his reedy body, as Sherlock arches upwards and curls a hand into a jumper clad shoulder.

"More," pleas Sherlock, scraping his fingers roughly against the back of John's skull, trying to find purchase in the short blond strands.

John's lips travel clumsily across Sherlock's jaw, drawing delicious little noises from him. Enticed by the sounds John draws his head down to nuzzle at Sherlock's neck with his nose. John's wet tongue starts licking along the ivory column of Sherlock's neck.

Trembling on the edge of orgasm, Sherlock's eyes flutter closed, as John bits and sucks his sensitive throat, tasting and caressing as much skin as possible. Mouthing at the freckles on his neck, John clasps their hands together, fingers linking neatly like puzzle pieces.

Sherlock feels his breath steal away, as John bites at his earlobe. His climax spills between their hot bodies, as he comes without the slightest bit of stimulation, to his damp needy hole. A part of him feels faintly impressed at John's accomplishment, as he lies back against the cool sheets and surrenders his body to the chemically produced high.

John's hands hastily undo the zip on his jeans, tugging them and his underpants down, just enough, to free his large, fat prick. He barely manages to take hold of himself, before the sight of Sherlock, boneless beneath him, becomes too much. A choking gasp spills from his lips, as thick streams ejaculation shoot from his cock. John's warm release paints his luminescent body. Debauching it beautifully and completely with strings of sticky white pearls.

"So gorgeous" Thinks John somewhat breathlessly, leaning down to capture Sherlock's lips with a brief yet loving kiss.

Sherlock looks up at him somewhat crossly.

"Stop looking at me that, I'm filthy." He says referring to his sweaty cum stained body.

"You look delectable." John assures retaking Sherlock's hand. He brings it up to his lips and presses a soft kiss into the palm. Sherlock's eyes soften slightly at his words secretly appeased even as he grumbles about the mess.

Unwilling to part from Sherlock's side even for a moment in order to find something to clean Sherlock up with John removes his jumper and hands it Sherlock. Sherlock uses a corner of the sleeve to dab at the sperm covering his stomach but only succeeds in spreading it further and creating a little pool of mess.

Absent-mindedly abandoning the jumper Sherlock dips a slender finger experimentally into the rapidly cooling whiteness. Drawing it slowly across his belly he smears John's sperm further into creamy skin.

Apparently pleased with the results Sherlock brings it into his mouth sucking it clean with more vigour than strictly necessary.

The sight does awful things to his cock.

"Already?" Sherlock asks looking down at the hardness between John's legs as his dick stirs ready for another round. John nods embarrassed.

A mischievous cat-like grin spreads across Sherlock's face as he eyes the effect of his seduction.

"Good. I want you inside me." Sherlock tells him honestly, unaware of the power of his words have on John's already eager body.

"Yes, anything you want" Says John bringing him close once more.

It doesn't take much kissing and groping of Sherlock's supple body to manoeuvre the two of them into a position that is far more workable. John's hands begin to wander down silky flesh only to be stopped by a disgruntled Sherlock shoving him away.

"Wait not yet, your clothes are in the way. Take them off. I want to see you naked." Sherlock orders aware that John cannot be comfortable in his current state.

Disentangling their limbs, John hurries to remove his clothes while he still has enough sense to comply.

Sherlock conjures up a condom and passes it to John who is now sinfully naked and kneeling dangerously near Sherlock's spread legs. John takes his time putting the condom on unrolling it carefully while trying to ignore the alluring sight of so much natural lubricant leaking out of Sherlock's twitching pink hole.

Condom in place John's hands eagerly caress his arse spreading him open even further. Lubricant glistens on Sherlock thighs as John fingers his slick wet opening. He teases Sherlock with light loving touches until he is begging to be filled.

Removing his fingers John licks at the residual liquid on his hands. The taste is similar to Sherlock's natural scent delicious and intoxicating just like Sherlock. John imagines drinking the juice directly from the source, licking at Sherlock's flower for hours until the taste of Sherlock is permanently ingrained upon John's tongue. Later perhaps the primal part of him thinks stealing another kiss from Sherlock.

Raising long snowy legs up to rest upon his shoulders John aligns himself against Sherlock's opening. John pushes into Sherlock's tight warmth. Sherlock bites back a moan as John slides into him gradually, letting Sherlock adjust to his wide girth inch by inch. John's hands grip his flesh firmly holding him in place as he sinks into the slippery heat.

"Mine." Gasps John as he begins to thrust, penetrating Sherlock deeply with his cock.

"Yours," agrees Sherlock as the brunt of their coupling dissolves into noisy moans, as John fucks him hard, forcing him to cum over and over again until he can no longer think about anything other than John and the knot joining their bodies together.


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock wakes in John's arms jubilant yet exhausted. Lying on dirty sheets wrapped in John's embrace he basks in the enduring euphoria of their lovemaking scarcely able to comprehend the wondrous turn his relationship with John has made in a single long weekend.

John _loves him_. Him. Sherlock.

The feeling of happiness swelling in his chest feels so natural and right that Sherlock cannot help but smile as he curls around John possessively and falls back into slumber.

* * *

"My god you're wonderful" John says quietly sometime later, his breath tickling Sherlock's ear unintentionally waking him.

"You were rather amazing yourself" Sherlock replies sleepily, deciding that he rather enjoys being held.

John tries to kiss him with his eyes half closed. He ends up affectionately kissing the tip of Sherlock's nose instead of his lips.

Sherlock tries to kiss him back but gives up having realised John is asleep again. Closing his eyes to rest temporarily, Sherlock decides he wouldn't be adverse to another round with John at some point in the relatively near future, and makes a note to inform John of that decision later when they are both no longer so sore.

* * *

Staring at the bits of John that protrude from the battered duvet, Sherlock notes the harsh red lines of fingernails marks along John's back with pride.

"Can you stay a bit longer or do you have to go back straight away?" He asks torn between showering and staying in bed. John looks at him somewhat uneasily.

"I- I don't have to go back."

"What?" Asks Sherlock surprised by John's words, a million possibilities running through his head none of them good.

"I have the week off. I'm on reading week." John explains.

"Oh." Sherlock replies relaxing in John's hold, incredibly relieved to hear that John hadn't been kicked off his course.

"You know what's funny?" John says tracing a finger over the bite mark on Sherlock's shoulder.

"I'd already packed a bag and was trying to come up with a decent reason to visit you when you called and told me to get my arse down here."

"It's funny how things work out, isn't it?" He says brushing a hand gently through Sherlock's hair.

"I've wanted to do this for so long you know, be with you that is." John adds quickly realizing belatedly how his words must have sounded. He turns slightly pink and Sherlock doesn't know what to say to that. He lets silence rest between them as the sun slowly rises.

"I'm sorry." John tells him abruptly a few minutes later.

"I wasn't as nice as I should have been that first summer. It's just I thought you wanted to get away from me by coming here to study. I thought you had realised how I felt about you when I kissed you because you've always been able to tell when I'm keeping things from you and well… I thought you didn't feel the same. I didn't know how to behave around you so I avoided you as much as possible. I thought that's what you wanted."

Sherlock feels guilt and wonders at how; given his wonderful observational skills he could have been so blind to have misread the situation completely. He'll have to work at that and remember to fit the theory to the facts, not the facts to the theory.

"It's a good thing you're pretty because you can be just as stupid as me when it comes to these things." Sherlock declares leaning over to kiss John deeply.

* * *

"What are you thinking of doing once you've finished your dissertation?" John asks fiddling with shower nozzle increasing the hot water.

Sherlock hums thoughtfully listening attentively without out actually taking in a word said by his beloved, his mind otherwise occupied with strangeness of his sudden heat. Rubbing shampoo into John's hair Sherlock cannot help but wonder if Henry had sent him the test results already.

"I mean do you want to travel or…" John trails off somewhat uncertainly. Coming back to the present Sherlock notes that John sounds terribly nervous which was odd considering that the two of them were naked and bathing together.

His fingers momentarily still in John's hair as he tries to see what John is really asking him.

A light bulb flashes metaphorically.

John is trying to ask if he would be interested in moving in with him.

"I've heard London is nice." Sherlock says hoping he hasn't gotten things wrong yet again. "Know of anyone needing a room-mate?"

"Yeah I think I do." John tells him turning around in the bathtub with a smile on his lips. Their discussion doesn't get much further than that as John is kissing him again, but Sherlock finds he doesn't mind a bit.

They've forever to plan a lifetime together after all.

* * *

It's not until later having consumed rather a lot of curry from the nearest Indian takeaway that Sherlock remembers having asked Henry to send the results of the tests to his phone. He remembers this when his mobile pokes him in the side as he rests on the sofa.

Fishing his phone from out of the cushions Sherlock turns it back on to discover rather a lot of texts from Henry. He reads through them quickly, curious to discover what Henry has found out.

"What's up, love?" John asks curled up next to him on the sofa equally full.

"It seems we have a mystery on our hands, John." He says grinning like a madman.

* * *

**With thanks to power0girl for all the help generously provided and who I stupidly forgot to thank earlier. **

**Also for those who don't know reading week is a bit like a holiday students get, only they're meant to do reading or projects during their time off.  
**


	12. Chapter 12

"Why on earth would you switch my pills for vitamins?"

"And hello to you too darling." Replies mummy calmly, being well used to his little eccentricities. "Oh and congratulations are on finally consummating your bond with John." She tells him sounding both sincere and pleased for him.

Sherlock frowns. His mother has heard nothing from him in weeks and should therefore be unaware of the latest developments between him and John. That she is aware of what has transpired only adds strength to the possibility she is the culprit.

"You know I hate it when you spy on me," He all but growls down the phone like a cross puppy.

"Darling, I haven't been spying." She replies sounding slightly hurt at the accusation.

"How else would you know what John and I have been getting up to?" He retorts crossly.

"I'll admit a little birdy may have mentioned a tiny thing or two to me but that's all sweetie. Now what was that about your pills?" Asks mummy intrigued.

"You don't know?"

"Know what Shirley?"

"About the substitution of my medication!" He all but yells this down the phone at his mummy only for his words to be met with surprised silence on the other end.

"You mean you haven't been meddling in mine and John's relationship?" He asks worriedly. He knew all of mummy's tells and could read her easily and right now she sounded positively honest.

"Of course not dear, I promised your father I wouldn't interfere."

Relief washes over Sherlock at her words. If mummy says she hasn't done anything then Sherlock believes her, especially if she promised father. Caught up in his investigation he almost misses her next words.

"I must say I am pleased that you've resolved your issues at last. Victor said John's romantic confession was particularly moving. "

"Oh God not this," he thinks remembering the reason he doesn't his call her often.

"Now tell me honestly did you have a good time? Was your John a stallion in the bedroom? Ohhh, I bet he was." She says sounding positively gleeful, already forgetting about the reason for his call.

"I, uh…" Sherlock falters at the incredibly personal questions his mother is putting to him.

"Oh I see, that good huh. Well I can't say I'm that surprised. So should I be expecting grandchildren from you anytime soon? I do hope so; I haven't been able to spoil anyone rotten in ages, besides the dog of course."

"Um, right, well I have to go now, bye." Says Sherlock hanging up the phone before his mother can deduce anymore of his and John's sex life.

"John, mummy's in the clear." Sherlock says crossing out her name, from the increasingly short list of suspects.

"Right well I didn't really think it was her. Secret plots aren't really her style." Replies John matter-of-factly, return from the kitchen with two mugs of tea.

Sherlock hums in agreement. Mummy excels at subtle emotional manipulation.

"So who's left?" John asks putting Sherlock's tea on the coffee table.

Sherlock is busy frowning at the list full of crossed out names in his hands and so barely notices John sit down beside him.

He had been sure mummy had tried to mend their relationship and push the two of them together by replacing his pills. Now he wasn't sure what to think. She had been their last remaining suspect having already cleared his flatmates and Mycroft.

Sherlock knows John thinks it must have been a mistake made at the pharmacy but then John's thinks well of everybody. A part of Sherlock wants to believe him but the idea that some idiot had taken liberties with his health without his knowledge was most distressing. Just thinking about the potential disasters that someone could have inflicted upon him, made his blood run cold. Anything could have been in the pills he had trustingly taken for the last three weeks. Hell they could have killed him with incorrect medication.

He sighs resting his head against John's shoulder his mind ferociously whirring away. A simple accident with his pills would be hard to prove. With the little evidence they had it would undoubtedly be his word against the chemist and he already knows how that would turn out.

After all hadn't he just read about that local nurse who had been arrested having supposedly tried to poison several patients to death? At the same care home he had read about only a few days ago if he remembered correctly (which he did of course).

A horrible idea flashed into his mind. What if he wasn't the only person in town to have received incorrect medication? What if the nurse's case and his heat were in some way related?

* * *

_Okay so just in case it wasn't clear Sherlock's medication had been swapped for regular vitamins as a result his body's natural cycle started up again. This is what Henry discovered in the last chapter and now Sherlock and John are investigating into it._

_I hope you liked this instalment sorry it's somewhat short I've been very busy lately. No word about my results yet for those who are interested though I'm fairly confident about the results._

**_Also reviews are appreciated!_**


	13. Chapter 13

"Amazing!" John cries smiling at Sherlock in wonder from across the small candle lit table in the quiet restaurant. "I can't believe you figured it out so easily. Well I mean I do because you're brilliant but well I just can't believe what that rotter, Jenkins was up to."

Though it is not the first time John has uttered such praise since solving the case Sherlock finds the repetition far from annoying as he nibbled at yet another bread stick.

"Yes it is quite astounding that someone so dumb could manage to get away with falsifying their qualifications and playing at pharmacist for so long without drawing attention to himself. Frankly it makes me wonder about the whole establishment." He replies surprising John who had assumed he had been simply staring out of the window at the passing cars, ignoring him.

"If it wasn't for the mess up of my pills," he adds, his fork neatly twirling strands of spaghetti. "And that issue with the care worker I doubt anyone would have noticed that the pills people were supposed to be taking were incorrect. After all one pill looks much like any other to the untrained eye. In addition most of the people affected were old and sick, so I doubt their relatives would have thought their deaths suspicious."

"Mmm" Agrees John with a mouth full of pasta. "It's good Jenkins is behind bars where he belongs."

"He'd have been in there sooner if those idiots on the police force had listened to me to begin with." Sherlock remarks crossly, remembering how the police had tried to ignore him simply because of his gender.

John takes his hands and gives it a quick comforting squeeze. Almost immediately Sherlock feels better.

"Yes well you showed them." John says affectionately. "I'm sure you gave them a lesson they won't forget in a hurry."

"What did you say to that Inspector anyway?" John adds looking curious.

"I might have threatened to reveal that he was having an affair with his superior's wife." He admits with one of his devilish smiles.

"Oh right." John replies expecting Sherlock to launch into yet another one of his wonderful explanations.

"But never mind about that, that's boring." Sherlock replies dismissing the topic with a wave of his hand. "Let's talk about names instead. I like the sound of Hamish."

"Names for what? What are you on about?" Asks John feeling slightly perplexed by the sudden change of topic.

Sherlock looks at him somewhat exasperated.

"For our baby." He says sounding almost tender.

"Oh." John finds himself stunned silent by Sherlock's words. His fork clatters onto the table cloth and the little smile resting on the corner of Sherlock's mouth falls away.

All the excitement and cheerfulness seems to dissipate from their small post-case celebration at the arrival of such a serious and unexpected conversation.

"I've read this wrong have I?" Sherlock says his voice quiet, mistaking John's surprise for something else. "I've messed things up. We've barely discussed living together as a couple and now I've haphazardly added a child into the equation. Well obviously you played a part as well. We've messed things up. But it's my fault. I should have been more careful. It was my birth control that started everything after all." Sherlock eyes flick upwards partly to avoid John's gaze and partly to stem the flow of tears that threaten to form.

"I thought you'd be pleased, which is stupid now I think about it because you're in the midst of your studies and my graduation is coming up and …"

"Are you're sure? John asks interrupting Sherlock. Abandoning his dinner he retakes Sherlock's hand, gazing at him with hopeful eyes.

"You might not be pregnant, you know. Your scent hasn't changed. Besides I'm an only child and there is quite a large gap between you and Mycroft, there could be fertility issues. Pseudocyesis is another possibility." He says his tongue rambling stupidly even as his brain images a mini Sherlock crawling about the place and getting into things.

Sherlock snorts and pulls his hand from John's grasp.

"I pinched a couple of pregnancy tests from the chemists while the police were busy making their arrest. The results were positive, all twelve of them." He says assuredly. "Let's not forget that your parents bonded late, they met at Mycroft's naming day. And it's not mummy's fault there's such a large gap between Mycroft and I, daddy was deployed abroad." He declares somewhat upset at the implication that he was unable to tell.

"Besides I doubt anyone could fuck like we did and not be pregnant." He adds his tone softening as his anger dissipates.

"So you're saying I'm that I was so good I must have put a baby in you?" John asks a smirk growing on his face despite the situation.

"I'm saying we were irresponsible with our condom use." Sherlock replies curtly getting up from his chair.

Before he can move far John is up out of his chair, enveloping him in loving embrace anchoring him in place.

"You want to keep it." He states, recalling Sherlock's earlier name suggestion.

"Yes." Sherlock affirms with a little shuddering nod of his head having thought about it long and hard before approaching the topic with John.

"Alright." John says smiling up at Sherlock's watery face with an abundance of fondness. Sherlock blinks at him confused, barely able to believe the words he is hearing.

"It won't be easy. Are you sure you want to have a child with me?"

"Honestly I'll admit I wasn't expecting this, at least not so soon. I've thought about it on occasion though and well I know things might be difficult but want it, I want this Sherlock. I want our baby." John confesses his voice full of emotion. Ten months ago, he would never have believed he would have Sherlock let alone a child.

Sherlock sniffs and smiles. John leans up places a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Come on let's get you home."

* * *

Good news I passed my retake!


	14. Chapter 14

In all honesty no one is very surprised when instead of giving an inspirational farewell speech Sherlock announces his pregnancy during his year's graduation ceremony. This lack of amazement is partly due to Sherlock's well known love of dramatics but mostly due to his small yet rather obvious baby bump.

Indeed given the fond looks he and his Alpha had been exchanging all afternoon it was more of a surprise for the parents of other graduates to learn that it was only his first pregnancy.

"I should've known something was up when you refused to have wine at lunch last week." Mycroft admits on Sherlock's return from the stage, suddenly feeling rather awful for having made a joke of Sherlock's recent weight gain a few hours ago (when he had been blissfully ignorant of both his brother's loss of virginity and impending motherhood*).

Feeling rather pleased to have upped Mycroft for once, Sherlock laughs, steals his bowl of strawberries and heads off through the crowd to free John from his horrible Aunt Margaret's clutches.

Her loud irksome voice carries over the dull chat well enough that he manages to hear a great deal of their conversation from afar.

"So irresponsible… the two of you are deluded if you think you can raise a child together, why you're hardly kids yourselves. Sherlock will be bored out of his mind; he won't want to stay home all day. He's not mother material. Probably end up neglecting the poor thing if he doesn't experiment on it first." She snorts dreadfully, amused by her own words.

"I'm sure we'll do just fine." John says shortly, his voice seething with anger.

Far too drunk to care about upsetting the younger Alpha or notice the tenseness of John's jaw and the way his hands curled into neat fists she continues undeterred.

"Well how are you going to afford to raise it? Your parents weren't all that rich, from what I heard, leaving you with a pittance after the car accident. I suppose his parents will provide a generous allowance to live off until Sherlock comes into his grandfather's trust fund."

"You speak as if I'm unable to provide." John growls angrily at the unjust accusation, having spent many sleepless nights staring at budgets with Sherlock until the numbers were at last sensible.

"Aren't you?" She sneers trying to take a sip from her already empty champagne glass. "You might have fooled them but you don't fool me, why else would you bond with that freak but for his money?" She asks squinting at him with bloodshot eyes.

"Because I love him." John snaps, his face red with fury and eyes burning with intense hatred for the Alpha in front of him.

Realising they are probably on the verge of public sparring Sherlock decides to intervene before the party is spoilt beyond repair.

"I think that's enough of an inquisition Aunty today is meant to be a celebration after all." He says stepping out from his hiding place, subtly creating a barrier by placing himself and the baby between the two of them.

Surprised and embarrassed Aunt Margaret's cheeks flush vividly.

"I-I think I'll just get another drink" she stutters, hurriedly excusing herself.

"Well I think that's one name we can remove from the baby shower." Sherlock declares earning himself a smile from John as they watch her disappear into the crowd. John turns to look at him again and the smile disappears from his face.

"God, you must've heard everything she said." He states sounding upset. Sherlock nods and finds himself being embraced in a loving hug.

"She's a bitch, ignore her." John mumbles pressing a kiss against his ear before resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder. "You'll be wonderful. I know you will." He adds, placing a hand on Sherlock's bump.

Relaxing into John's grasp Sherlock finds himself cuddling back, wrapping his long arms around John and holding him close, glad to be able to use his hormones as an excuse for his soppiness.

They stay curled up together in that quiet corner of the gigantic hall until mummy finds them.

"Oh there you are my darlings. I'm so pleased! My first grandchild!" She cries pulling them both into a hug. "A degree and a baby, oh I couldn't be more thrilled!"

"Siger's ecstatic as well- aren't you dear?" She adds casting a glance behind her at her mate, Mr Holmes who nods awkwardly.

"You know I had a suspicion you might be expectant, when your John started looking for a two bedroomed flat so I got you a little something." Mummy announces with a gleeful smile.

"Don't look at me like that Shirley; you'll like this gift I promise." She says pulling a paper shopping bag seemingly from nowhere and handing it to Sherlock who promptly pulls out a little yellow baby grow.

"I know it's a little early, what with you being just over three months pregnant and all but I just saw this in the shop and had to get it. Daddy thought you might prefer a book on baby development but well, Gran said you'd been devouring those at an alarming rate so I thought it best to get you something else in case you had the title already." She explains casually hinting that Granny Watson (who had come down to stay with Sherlock because John could not) had not been quite as tight lipped about the pregnancy as they had hoped.

"Are you sure you like it? Because I can always take it back and exchange it if you don't."

Enthralled by the delicate bee motif on the front of the gown Sherlock doesn't answer, even so his satisfaction is obvious.

"It's wonderful." John assures her smiling widely.

* * *

* Note in this universe mother is a perfectly acceptable term for the person who gives birth to a child regardless of them being male or female.

I think I should also mention that I have never been to a graduation and that I have no idea if Sherlock would be showing at around three months but given how thin he normally is I thought even a minor weight gain would be noticeable.


	15. Chapter 15

After a long day of lectures John is mildly surprised to find Sherlock laying quietly on the sofa in his usual thinking pose his fingers pressed together and a small toy hedgehog resting on his bump. Glancing around briefly, John notices an abundance of tiny cardigans and toys seem to have magically materialized in the flat along with several more baby things while he was out.

The brief hope that his heavily pregnant mate had spent the day robbing every baby shop in London in order to add yet more baby things to their already well stocked nursery, briefly enters his mind as he stares at the wool covered surfaces and tries to calculate the cost of such pretty little trifles.

"They're second hand, family heirlooms and the like. It's one of the advantages of having a large extended family with a dislike of throwing things away. This entire lot didn't cost us a penny. " Sherlock announces apparently not as deeply immersed in his thoughts as John had previously assumed (it was rare nowadays for him to get passed his horny darling un-groped unless Sherlock was contemplating something deep in his mind palace).

Startled by the sound of Sherlock's voice John nearly drops the much craved bag of Chinese takeaway on the floor instead of placing it neatly on the table.

Sherlock on the other hand looks rather pleased with himself and has no doubtin his deductions. Feeling somewhat awed and relieved John smiles at him, kisses his cheek and heads to the kitchen for plates.

"Oh come on it wasn't that hard of a guess, you've already spent more than you should have on presents for me and the baby these last few months- judging by the state of both your shoes and our bank balance." Sherlock says his rich gorgeous voice carrying through the open doorway as John fiddles about in the kitchen with their dinner. "Not that I'm complaining about being spoilt mind you." He adds a catlike grin on his face as John carries his plate over to him on a tray.

"I'm just excited that's all, besides it's a Alpha's job to look after his mate isn't it?" John replies settling down next to Sherlock and turning the television on.

"Well you're doing an exceptional job I must say." Sherlock says, leaning in to steal a quick kiss before tucking into his dinner.

* * *

"Mmmmmm tiring day? How did your test go?" Sherlock asks resting his head against John's warm chest, their dinner eaten.

"Well I think, I'll find out next Monday. Now what trouble did you get up to while I was out?" John asks as his fingers gently work their way through Sherlock's hair, stroking his curls.

Sherlock scowls light-heartedly at the suggestion his behaviour is ever anything less than impeccable.

"Nothing particularly interesting (unfortunately), except I did catch the neighbourhood Milk Thief. Ironically it was the leader of the local neighbourhood watch, and well the other members were less than pleased with him when I caught him, I can tell you. It took me a good hour and a half of listening to them prattle their thanks at me before I could escape. I almost missed 'Countdown'." He huffs crossly.

"To make matters worse Ethel insisted on giving me a mountain of homemade sprout preservative before letting me go..." He stills mid-sentence and peculiar look crosses his gorgeous features.

"What is it?" John asks staring worriedly at Sherlock as his face quickly changes from surprise to confusion and then empathy in a matter of seconds.

"I think my water just broke." Sherlock explains sounding excitedly nervous. John stares at him blankly for a moment, as his tired mind slowly tries to comprehend Sherlock's words.

"But you're not meant to be due for two weeks!" John cries even as he mentally begins to go through his check-list and preparations. "Crap where did I put the bags?"

* * *

_Just a few quick clarifications_

_Sherlock and John are now living in London together and Sherlock has started solving crimes in his spare time, currently for members of the Alpha/Omega community that they belong to (in my imagining London has a significantly large community). My Sherlock isn't quite obsessed with the work just yet but rather helps solve crimes because he is bored staying at home all day._

_Given Sherlock's age (early 20's) and Omega status I think he would have to start out with small crimes, however I also think that because he has a degree and is educated other Omegas will go to him for advice, forcing him to spend hours listening to their trivial problems._


	16. Chapter 16

Propped up upon a mountain of fluffy pillows, Sherlock smiles sleepily as he wakes to find himself resting on clean snowy white hospital sheets.

"Marvellous." Thinks Sherlock as he listens to John sings softly to their newborn son, the dim dawn light creeping through the blinds of the private room casting a warm golden glow on the scene in front of him. "Simply marvellous."

"_Golden slumbers kiss your eyes;  
Smiles await you when you rise.  
Sleep,  
Pretty baby," _John hums tunefully as he gently cradles Hamish Mark Watson in his arms, his blue eyes full of pure adoration for the tiny baby.

"I see he's already got you wrapped around his little finger" Sherlock says interrupting. John smiles and moves to sit on the bed besides Sherlock. Sherlock smiles and snuggles close to John and their cub.

"Yes well I can't help it if he takes after you." John replies pressing a warm kiss on Sherlock's cheek while his eyes remain transfixed upon Hamish's delicate dark chocolate curls.

Staring at the tiny child in front of him Sherlock silently finds himself disagreeing. His, no their beautiful boy clearly takes after John more with his cute little button shaped nose and striking ears.

John kisses Sherlock again, distracting him from tiny sea blue eyes.

"I didn't mean to wake you," John says softly. "Go back to sleep."

"Sleeping's dull." Replies Sherlock to which John laughs.

"You might regret saying that later." He says smiling. "After all who knows how many full nights we'll get now?" John says staring at the baby in his arms and half expecting him to cry on cue. Instead Hamish stares up at him with half lidded eyes and drools.

* * *

Sorry for not updating for so long real life commitments got in the way. I can't promise when the next update will be but I do promise this fic is not abandoned.

Note because the whole Alpha/Omega idea originates from that werewolf show I thought it cute to call their baby a cub. Also I know very little about babies.


	17. Chapter 17

It doesn't take them long to figure out that while Hamish may have inherited John's love of food, his sleeping pattern was much the same as Sherlock's. Indeed Sherlock finds himself spending many long nights with little Hamish for company, rocking him back and forth in a soothing manner and talking about his latest research as Hamish quietly stares up at him with intrigued little eyes. It's a routine of theirs in a way, just like playing with the bubbles during bath time (and trying to completely soak John in the process).

On the unfortunately infrequent nights when Hamish does permit sleep to overcome him properly Sherlock curls up against his favourite bed warmer (John) and rests until it is time for him to go and make up the next lot of bottles for Hamish.

Of course John tries to do his share of the night time duties but more often than not, he is simply too tired and ends up falling asleep during family story time, midway through an encyclopaedia entry or ancient Greek classic and fails to wake again until at least dawn (often no matter how loud Hamish's occasional cries are).

Well aware of the amount of pressure his soon to be doctor is under (just a little less than two years to go until he is fully qualified, thank God) Sherlock rarely minds even if it does mean he has to go over the story again next time. After all there are far worse things John could be doing such as leaving them at home in order to stay out late and get pissed with his friends like that brute of an Alpha just across the way (whose long-suffering Omega was incidentally planning on running away with a co-worker called Gordon).

Night time duties aside John is brilliantly helpful and caring. He plays with Hamish regularly (sometimes to the point that Sherlock felt a little left out and would create an excuse for attention). And changes dirty nappies without complaint and even makes dinner after a full day of studying. He also manages to make time for weekly trips to the park despite his hectic schedule. Indeed Sherlock thinks himself very lucky indeed as he curls up next to John and falls asleep on his chest.

* * *

Sorry for not updating in a while I've had tons of things on, also updates will probably be irregular for a while longer. Apologies for any potential mistakes, I did make a proper time line for this fic but its gone a bit off course.


	18. Chapter 18

Hey sorry for not posting sooner, I've had a ton of drama and work to deal with.

* * *

Sherlock sat in the middle of the living room (having rearranged the furniture again) facing the front door, which John would enter through in… approximately five and a half minutes. It was an ideal spot for his plan. There was absolutely no way John would be able to sneak past him tonight.

Sherlock had been quietly contemplating a second child for a while and had finally concluded that they needed to have another baby as soon as possible. Another baby would be good, for what would Sherlock do all day once Hamish goes off to nursery? What was he meant to do with only the little old ladies and other stay at home mums for company?

As much as he enjoys cataloguing every minute change, every little milestone of his son's development, Sherlock can't help but feel a little sad watching Hamish play. For with Hamish at nursery where was his excuse for mid-afternoon naps and playing with blocks?

Moreover without Hamish constantly around to talk to and entertain him (the skull had to be put away when it had made Hamish cry) Sherlock would be bored out of his mind. Sherlock knows well enough that boredom often leads to dangerous experiments and stunts which land him in trouble.

Another baby would prevent all that and give Hamish someone to play with. It was logical. Sherlock had a list filled with a magnitude of reasons proving this. John was sure to approve (that's why Sherlock had left out the list where John was sure to come across it).

Sherlock had tried to be patient and wait for John to bring it up, but after a week and a bit, Sherlock's patience was wearing thin. They needed to have the discussion soon for Sherlock's next heat was approaching, and if they didn't do it soon they would have to wait another three months. In short Sherlock needed to hear John's verdict on the matter and he needed to hear it today.

Sitting in the somewhat tidy living room Sherlock feels rather hopeful regarding John's answer. Surely John will agree. It's a reasonable demand after all and well if need be Sherlock knows several methods of persuasion that have proven effective on John in the past (albeit not regarding something this monumental). Not that he will need to uses such underhand techniques, for John will make the right choice and agree. Sherlock is almost certain of this.

Surely John would not be averse to expanding their happy family? After all John loves him and cares deeply for Hamish. Having one more children to love would be a good thing. Right?

"Where did that laptop go? It was around here a minute ago." Sherlock asks himself shifting around to look under the piles of papers and books for the missing item.

"The laptop? I think I left it on the table. Did you rearrange the furniture again?" John questions amusedly from inside the kitchen.

"Yes, John of course I did- I was bored. -Oh! John you're back!" Sherlock replies before fully connecting the click of the kettle and John's voice. He looks up at the clock and finds himself mildly surprised to discover it is gone half past and John is home already. Sherlock springs up eagerly and bounces into the other room. He wastes no time invading John's limited space, wrapping his arms around John's sturdy frame and leaning in for his welcome home kiss.

John gives him a quick peak on the lips and looks at him curiously. "Why do you need the laptop Sherlock? I thought you found Mrs Osman's lost dog already?"

"Oh yes that, solved. It was an illegal dog ring snatching pets for use in animal testing nothing particularly interesting." Sherlock says as he waves his hand dismissively. "No, it's not that, I was just thinking about something important."

"Christmas? You're right we need to think about presents." John suggests, before continuing on, "I've been wondering and well… is there anything special I can get you for Christmas? Something you really want?"

Sherlock looks at him, opens his mouth as if to speak and hesitates. Wrapping his arms tightly around John, Sherlock burrows his face in the space between John's shoulder and neck.

"You won't mind if it's outrageous?"

"Anything Sherlock, just name it and I'll get it for you."

"A baby." Sherlock whispers nervously, glad he cannot currently see John's face.

"Really? Another one so soon?"

Sherlock's nods stiffly.

"Alright, well I can abduct one for you in the morning."

Sherlock frowns and pokes at John's rib. "I was being serious."

"Ah. Right, sorry." The kitchen is quiet for a bit.

"Please John, can we?" Sherlock asks pulling his head up to look at John's eyes and trying to ignore the tears that threaten to fall from his own. John clumsily strokes his back.


	19. Chapter 19

In the end, after a long discussion they decide to simply enjoy Sherlock's next heat together and leave things in Mother Nature's capable hands, letting her do what she sees fit.

Hamish is whisked away by Anthea and Mycroft for the weekend, so that Sherlock and John need not worry about anything during their hot passionate lovemaking. They pick Hamish up hours before the start of Sherlock's heat so that Sherlock has ample time to prepare, which is fortunate because John comes home early, his blood already aflame with desire for his mate.

Somehow John manages to surprise Sherlock in the kitchen only to be pleasantly surprised in turn, finding his sweetheart dressed delectably, clad only in a loose shirt and apron. Unable to stop the animalistic part of himself that has begun to take control, John presses Sherlock up against the kitchen sink and begins to fondle his plump arse without even uttering a word of greeting. Later John will take Sherlock to bed and lick and taste every curve of his darling but at the moment John needs this, needs Sherlock urgently. Already far to caught up in the gorgeous sounds Sherlock is producing John fails to notice as Sherlock's grip loosens and he drops a mug onto the floor,which smashes into pieces.

The washing up completely abandoned in favour of far more pleasurable pursuits Sherlock trembles in John's embrace as all thoughts of babies fall from his mind, until there is nothing left but John and the heat engulfing them.

Peppermint laced kisses burn Sherlock's neck as John hungrily kisses up and along towards his jaw, nipping here and there as his fingers caress Sherlock's wet hole. Sherlock clutches desperately at the edge of the sink with soapy hands as John slides into him inch by inch until he is completely inside. John takes him hard and fast, each thrust drawing pretty lustful moans from Sherlock's pretty throat.

* * *

Sorry if this seems a little out of character but I loved the idea of John taking Sherlock from behind in the kitchen, as I have a bit of a ddomesticity kink.


	20. Chapter 20

Several more rounds of delectable mating later and Sherlock cannot help but suspect himself to be once again to be 'in the family way'.

A short visit to the doctor's confirms Sherlock's quiet hopes. John is overjoyed by the news of course and for a while everything is wonderful.

Hamish starts attending the local nursery for three mornings every week. Like John, Hamish turns out to be quite the social butterfly, befriending everyone regardless of their status. To him the nursery is wonderful, full of toys and friends and things to do. Hamish wakes extra early on the days he goes to nursery.

Personally Sherlock detests the four or so hours Hamish spends away from him; on mondays, wednesdays and fridays. Other mums may willingly abandon their children for several hours each day without concern but Sherlock cannot do so without his chest twisting terribly. The hours spent without Hamish are horrible but productive. With Sherlock mainly useing the time to study his less child friendly interests.

Somehow Sherlock even manages to find himself becoming friends with one of the mothers, a slightly older Omega by the name of Soo Lin. Being educated herself Soo Lin isn't dull like the other mothers who only like to talk about the trashy soaps on tv. Nor does she care for mindless chit chat over coffee. Instead they go to museums and art galaries and look at culture.

However everything goes to pieces late into Sherlock's pregnancy when John finds himself unexpectedly losing the job he was meant to have upon finishing his studies. As usual, the job goes to some second rate beta doctor with powerful family connections, leaving John high and dry with a growing family to feed.

"Mycroft said I should be pleased I managed to resist for this long." John says pacing a hole into the livingroom carpet.

"But surely you aren't really going to accept? What about your other job offers?" Hisses Sherlock yelling at John without raising his voice.

John sighs. "I have to take this job, everything else has gone already. We're nearly broke Sherlock."

"But they left you alone because we bonded. Why do they want you now?"" Sherlick protests looking up at John crossly from the sofa.

"Sherlock, they left me alone because they realised I'd be of more use to them once I was a fully qualified doctor."

"Then why the hell did we bother to bond?" Yells Sherlock, forgetting the sleeping child in the next room, banging his fist against the arm rest.

Before he can react John has crossed the room into his personal space. For a moment he thinks John might actually hit him,but then John sinks to his knees and wills Sherlock to look at him. Sherlock looks at John and sees a mixture of determination and desperation in his like Sherlock, John doesn't want to argue, but nor will he back down.

John's hands cup Sherlock's face and Sherlock lets him. Anger still seethes within Sherlock; how can John ask him to let him go, when he might not come back? Surely he knkws that without him Sherlock is nothing? John tries to quieten his mind with a kiss however Sherlock bites John lip in irritation, so he pulls back.

"Sherlock, I promised I'd look after you and the kids no matter what and that's what I'm going to do alright. I'm joining the army."

" I don't need you to look after me" Sniffs Sherlock. "I just need you to stay


	21. The End

Sherlock lies on the sofa and day dreams as he stares at the skull on the bookshelf by the door. He'd snuck it back into the living room when John had been too deprived of sleep to notice. Half hidden behind the yellow smiley face Hamish drew in art class it currently remained unnoticed by John. Sherlock smiles, only John could make obliviousness cute. Hmmm…

"Let's go away somewhere." He says suddenly imagining himself pressed up against John's chest and snuggling into his jumper.

"What about Hamish?" Imaginary-John queries, nose wrinkling- almost adorably which momentarily halts Sherlock's daydream. Sherlock thinks about Hamish, imaginary- John had raised a good point. Ah, yes. Sherlock smiles as once more John's arms comfortably hold him.

"He can come with us I suppose, that would be best wouldn't it." Answers Sherlock, his lips tilted at the corner in a smile to show it is a joke. Of course Hamish would come with them. It was the only possible solution that Sherlock would find acceptable.

Only it's not really plausible, is it? He thinks as he carefully rubs circles across his stomach. Running away worked better when there were less people going, and as of today there were significantly more of them than they had originally intended. Sherlock gazes happily at the fuzzy yet glorious sonogram picture in his hand.

How could they possibly run away now? Given his current condition? The more he thinks about it the more complicated everything becomes. Frustratingly his mind cannot conceive a viable answer to their current predicament. Imaginary-John disappears but it doesn't bother Sherlock, for the real thing will be back shortly. None of the various scenarios that have been running though his head are realistic. Logically Sherlock knows John is right to have accepted the job, he had to think about the children after all. But for once Sherlock's heart rules not damn logic. There is no real way of keeping John with them, instead of the army. And that troubles him.

Sherlock huffs in annoyance, abandons his ridiculous plans and resumes sulking on the sofa only to brighten upon hearing the front door open sometime later.

"How was your ultrasound? Everything alright with Rupert?" John asks from the hallway as he helps Hamish remove his coat and wellingtons.

"Fine all fine, Amelia keeps kicking me though." Grumbles Sherlock slightly, rubbing at his belly some more to ease his discomfort.

John's hands miss the peg and his coat falls to the floor. He turns to gape at Sherlock. "You mean we are having a girl?" he asks excitedly.

"No I mean we're having twins." Sherlock explains, lazily offering John the sonogram.

John smiles at the picture and picks up Hamish, cuddling him close.

"Hear that Hayes, you're going to have two baby siblings!"

-End-

* * *

Hey so I know this probably seems like a really bad place to end, what with Sherlock pregnant and not really a detective yet and John going away. But I do plan a sequel of sorts made up of short drabbles along with a few other one shots so it's not completely the end.


End file.
